"Nyamaki has not returned?" queried Tyingoza, who, seated, in his accustomed place under the window of the store, had been taking snuff and chatting about things in general. "Not that I have heard of," I answered. "I was at his place but a day or two back. Will he return, Tyingoza?" "And the young one--he who sits in Nyamaki's place--does he think he will return?" What was the object of this answer turned into another question? What was in Tyingoza's mind? However I replied: "He is inclined to think not. He thinks his relation has wandered away somewhere--perhaps into the river, and will never be heard of again." "Ah! Into the river! Well, that might be, Iqalaqala. Into the river! The ways of you white people are strange, _impela_!" Tyingoza, you see, was enigmatical, but then he often was, especially if he thought I was trying to get behind his mind--as he put it. Clearly he was not going to commit himself to any definite opinion regarding the disappearing Hensley. "Ukozi is in these parts," I went on. "Ukozi? Ha! I have not seen him. Did he visit you here?" "Not here," I answered, with intent to be as enigmatical as himself. "Ukozi is a very lion among _izanusi_. Why do not the white people get him to find Nyamaki?" "And the practice of an _isanusi_ is not allowed by the white people. How then can they make use of such?" I said. The chief shrugged his shoulders slightly, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes. "It is as you say, Iqalaqala. Yet their _Amapolise_ cannot find him. You white people know a great deal, but you do not know everything." "Now, Tyingoza, I would ask: What people does?" Then he laughed and so did I, and this was all I got out of my attempt at "pumping" Tyingoza. Yet, not quite all. That suggestion of his as to employing the witch doctor was destined to stick. Afterwards it was destined to come back to me with very great force indeed. Now I began to shut up the store, early in the day as it was, for I meant to go over to the Sewins. It would be almost my last visit: for the preparations for my trip were nearly complete and in two or three days I proposed to start. Moreover I had received a note from the old Major, couched in a reproachful vein on behalf of his family, to the effect that I was becoming quite a stranger of late, and so forth; all of which went to show that my plan of not giving them more of my company than I thought they could do with--had answered. "So you are going _kwa Zulu_ directly?" said Tyingoza, as he took his leave. "And not alone. That is a pity." He had never referred to Falkner's practical joke. Now, of course, I thought he was referring to it. "Well, the boy is only a boy," I answered. "I will keep him in order once over there, that I promise." Again his eyes twinkled, as he bade me farewell with all his usual cordiality.